Metrosexuals – 12th Feb 2017

It’s tough being a man these days, never mind being one in his early forties. It’s incredible how many people freely offer you advice once noticing you are slightly portly and probably not in the best shape of your life.

Coming to live in Spain was a shell-shock for me to say the least. The younger men are what I believe you call metro-sexual. It was difficult for me to tell the ‘heterosexual metrosexual’ from the more standard ‘homosexual. To me, they were all fair game. Ironically the former are deeply offended that you thought they looked like a fag. Ironic really, but sport for me.

The old saying “if you look like a duck, smell like a duck.……. is no longer infallible. Though from personal experience and preservation I can say that this once again becomes the case if you ply your prey with sufficiently strong cider (sweet being best) and continually say that you wished there were girls around as you are horny. They are soon convinced to succumb to second best. TIP make sure there are no girls around.

I do care about my appearance but it has never been something I have fretted over, to be honest. It is certainly more difficult to find sex when you are over forty and more so if you have man breasts and get out of breath walking to the local shop to buy pickled onion monster munch. I seriously should at least contemplate doing something to get in better shape if I am to experience physical intimacy again with a willing participant. I think I need to maybe watch my diet a bit more, try to take a little more exercise and maybe switch to filtered cigarettes. I can’t see me becoming fanatical. The only good thing about going to a gym is that you can sweat in a public place and people don’t feel the need to point at you.

Given that the current extent of my sporting activities ends with endless runs to the toilet due to onset diabetes I was looking at some ideas which are a little more socially interactive. Running is just a no-go as I have a car and just can’t see the point of getting somewhere on foot when you can drive in comfort and smoke. Swimming I like, but I find it a little tedious and it flares up my ADHD manic episodes given that I have to count the exact number of lengths swam and regularly lose count having to start all over again. The only real thing I enjoy is walking. Once I get going, I love walking. Unfortunately, my dog is too old, too lazy, and too small to walk any great distance. He is also very anti-social and it is a bind trying to drag him off other less temperamental dogs simply enjoying their natural affinity to smell other dogs arses.

I’m 10 kilos (update 20), a good waxing and eyebrow reshaping away from being borderline repulsive on the gay scene but these are the dizzy standards I am prepared to aspire to.

I am thinking. More soon.

Lee Robert Ness

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